Road Kill

by Carolina Mac

  “Room one, waiting for you,” said the Chief.

  “Can I watch?” asked Marnie as she handed out breakfast sandwiches.

  “You can watch through the window,” said the Chief after he was introduced to Marnie. “That’s what I usually do. It’s better if Jesse is alone with the suspect. Always better.”

  In the room, Jesse set up the interview after placing a breakfast sandwich and a coffee in front of the kid. Damp blond hair and skin so pale it was almost translucent, he wasn’t too tall and might have weighed about one forty-five. His blue eyes were cloudy and just looking across the table at him, Jesse could tell he wasn’t a hundred percent with it.

  “I’m Ranger Quantrall, Collin. Do you want to eat your sandwich before we talk?”

  He nodded, unwrapped it and wolfed down the food like he was starving.

  “We have the gun, Collin, and the lab is testing it right now. We both know it’s going to match all the people you killed in the past few days. Do you want to tell me why you killed the riders?”

  He shook his head.

  “Can you talk?” asked Jesse.

  He shook his head again.

  “How about writing a statement? Could you do that?”

  He nodded. “I’ll get you paper and a pen.” Jesse pointed at the coffee Collin hadn’t touched. “If you don’t like coffee I can get you a Coke.”

  He nodded.

  “Be right back.”

  Marnie was wide-eyed when Jesse came out. “Would you get him a Coke from the machine at the end of the hall, sweetheart?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll get a notepad and a pen,” said the Chief. “Blacky said the kid’s name is the same as the manager of the half-way house. Luke and Farrell are bringing Norm Emmery in. He should be here soon.”

  “If that’s his father, he might want a lawyer for his son,” said Jesse.

  “For himself too. Blacky thinks the man knew what his son was doing and protected him. If that’s true, Emmery is an accessory to murder.”

  “Hard to prove,” said Jesse, “if he denies it.”

  Marnie came back with the Coke and handed it to Jesse. “I feel kind of sorry for him.”

  “He’s got issues,” said Jesse. “No denying that. He may not be fit to stand trial.”

  “That’s not our worry,” said the Chief. “We have him in custody and we’ll hold on to him for now. That’s about all we can do at this point.”

  Mueller Area. Austin.

  THE HALF-WAY HOUSE was all in darkness as Luke and Fletcher walked up onto the porch and knocked on the door. No one answered. They knocked again, then rang the bell a couple of times. Finally, there was a shuffling of feet on the other side of the door and a man peeked out.

  “Mr. Emmery?” asked Luke. “We need you to come to headquarters with us. Ranger Blackmore has your son in custody, and he wants to speak to you.”

  “I can’t leave the residents unattended.”

  “Are you the only one here to watch them?”

  “No, my helper, Mrs. Pickersgill is here.”

  “The residents are sleeping,” said Fletcher. “Would you come with us, please?”

  “I’ll get my jacket.”

  Luke stepped inside the front door to make sure Mr. Emmery was only getting his jacket. He was. Quiet and subdued, they escorted Norman Emmery to the green surveillance truck and put him in the back seat.

  “Is Collin hurt?”

  “There was no mention of him being injured, sir,” said Luke. “He’s at headquarters and not in a hospital.”

  Mr. Emmery said nothing else during the trip to DPS.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE watched Fletcher park behind the building and escort Norm Emmery to the back door. “Mr. Emmery,” said Blaine. “We have your son in custody, and we’d like to ask you a few questions.” To Luke: “You guys go home and sleep until noon.”

  “Roger that, boss.”

  Emmery said nothing as Blaine escorted him to the interrogation room next to the one where Collin was laboring over his statement.

  “Can I see Collin?” he asked. Mr. Emmery was a calm even-tempered person. The ideal personality to be coping with people who weren’t always calm.

  “No,” said Blaine. “He’s with a Ranger and they’re working on his statement.”

  “Collin can’t… he’s not competent, Ranger Blackmore. I’d like to get him a lawyer.”

  “That’s your right, sir. Do you have someone in mind, or do you want us to call a public defender?”

  “Could you get in touch with Arthur Pitts. I’ve known him for a long time, and he may be able to help.”

  “I’ll contact him right away for you, sir.”

  JESSE had been watching Collin for a half hour while he scribbled words on the yellow pad, crossed them out and started over.

  Collin put the pen down and nodded that he was finished.

  “Just sign your name at the bottom,” said Jesse, “and I’ll have someone take you to your cell. That’s enough for tonight.”

  After Perkins had taken Collin downstairs to holding, Jesse stared at the statement and tried to make sense of it.

  The fire was big at the place.

  Japscrap and all laughing loud. Drunk pointing.

  Pushed me off and I fell.

  They burned it.

  I hate them.

  Collin Emmery.

  “Uh huh.” Jesse walked across the hall to the Chief’s office. “Here’s your statement, Chief, and your motive. As near as I can tell and a lot of it is guesswork, Collin went to a bike rally at some point in time. He was riding a Suzuki, or a Yamaha and the Harley riders pushed him off his bike and threw it on the bonfire. They burned up his bike and he hates everybody on a Harley.”

  “Jesus Christ in a hand bucket.” The Chief took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. “All those people? Wonder where he got the rifle?”

  “Misty said it was his father’s deer rifle,” said Jesse. “Maybe we can zero in on that aspect.”

  “The father may be able to shed more light.”

  “If he knows more about this, Blacky is right. We’ll have to charge him.”

  Blaine came through the door. “Mr. Emmery had me call a lawyer for his son. Lawyer can’t come until tomorrow, but Emmery trusts him and wants to wait.”

  “We can wait,” said the Chief, “and while you’re waiting why don’t you scratch something down to say to the TV cameras.”

  “Why, are they outside?”

  “I heard they were gathering,” said the Chief, “but I’m afraid to look.”

  Jesse chuckled. “I’m not going out there.”

  BLAINE stepped through the front doors of DPS and couldn’t believe the crowd out front at dawn. Lights flashed on the minute they saw him step outside and he was almost blinded. He held up a hand in front of his eyes and hollered, “Hey. Don’t blind me.”

  “We heard you caught the sniper, Ranger B,” somebody hollered.

  “How do y’all hear this stuff? I need to know.”

  “We have contacts,” said a blonde talking head in a pale blue suit who looked like microphone Barbie.

  “We do have a suspect in custody,” said Blaine. “No details available at this time. It’s way too early. The suspect is waiting for legal counsel and nothing will be released until later in the day tomorrow. As for the evidence, the lab is working on processing what we have and as soon as they finish I’ll have more to say.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “You weren’t listening and I’m not repeating myself. Nothing more until Mary calls y’all. Go eat breakfast.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  AS SOON AS BLAINE got home, he crawled into bed and slept until noon. He woke up feeling a little more human and after standing under a hot shower for twenty minutes, he figured he could make it through the rest of the day.

  He dressed in clean clothes, tied a blue bandana around his damp hair and desce
nded to the kitchen to forage for food. Carm was ready for him with homemade chicken soup and the grilled ham and cheese sandwiches he liked. Casey ate lunch with him.

  “Did you go out in the night?” asked Casey. “You weren’t here when I got up.”

  “Farrell got a tip and we caught the sniper. I’m glad that’s over.”

  “Wow, that’s good news. Did you shoot him? Is it going to be on TV?”

  “No need to shoot him. It might be on the news later when I have more to tell them. The lab is processing the gun and the stuff in his backpack.”

  “I’m glad you have solid evidence,” said Casey.

  “Me too. Hate it when we don’t.”

  “When’s the voodoo princess coming back?” asked Casey. “I miss her so much and I want Hoodoo back. So, does Lexi.”

  “As soon as I refill my coffee, I’ll call her,” said Blaine. “I want the answer to that question too.”

  Blaine moved over to the table by the window and called New Orleans. Misty didn’t answer until the third ring and she sounded out of breath. “Hi, Beb. How are y’all?”

  “We’re okay, but we’re missing you a lot. Are you coming back soon?”

  “Umm… not sure. I’m doing a huge reno and it’s going to take some time, but a lot of the dreary scariness in the old place has already been dealt with.”

  “If I can possibly manage it,” said Blaine, “I’ll come on the weekend.”

  “Would you? I would so love that. We can go out for some great food and have some fun.”

  “A couple of things are wrapping up. I’ll try my best.”

  Once he’d made a promise to Misty, Blaine felt better and pushed himself into getting things done. He spent the rest of the afternoon talking to the gang squad and the take-down team about raiding the clubhouse of Reyes Del Rio.

  If they could find the gun the Del Rios used to take out Hector Saez, they could throw the whole works of them in jail for a couple of days before La Realeza retaliated and started a war.

  “Let’s hit the clubhouse at dawn and take them by surprise,” said Blaine to Farrell. “I’ll tell all the boys to report for work at five.”

  Farrell nodded. “Be good to wrap up. I could use a day off.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Thursday, October 11th.

  East Congress. Austin.

  REYES DEL RIO had destroyed a once usable body shop and turned it into their new home. Black spray graffiti, boarded up windows, and all manner of garbage, glass and debris littered the premises. A narrow alleyway running between their building and their closest neighbor housed a long line of Harleys.

  In the gray light before dawn, it looked exactly like what it was—a dump.

  Timing was everything and Blaine had marshalled his troops two blocks away in the empty parking lot of H.E.B.

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  They converged from both sides of the block at once. The take-down team wearing body armor and carrying automatic weapons led the way. They broke down the door of the clubhouse and blasted in ahead of the others.

  A dozen bikers were asleep inside on assorted broken down sofas and stained mattresses. Three woke with a start, hopped to their feet and grabbed for the closest Blackout. They were shot. The rest were cuffed and hauled outside to the waiting bus and transported to headquarters.

  Once the filthy, stinking building was empty, Blaine and the crew turned the place upside down looking for the rifle that killed Hector Saez.

  After and hour of fruitless searching, Farrell said, “Maybe they did the smart thing and tossed in the river.”

  “Not if there was somebody else on their list they wanted to get rid of,” said Blaine. “They’d keep it and use it again. Blame it on the sniper.”

  “Think they thought that far ahead?” asked Travis.

  “Possibly.” Blaine shrugged. “Maybe not.”

  “Could be at one of the member’s houses,” said Luke. “The clubhouse might not be the best choice to keep a murder weapon.”

  “We’ve checked all the obvious places,” said Farrell, “like underside of the table, secret spaces in the walls or floor.”

  “Think dumber,” said Carlos. “Dumb down and look again.”

  “What about the roof?” asked Fletch. “I’ll see if I can get up there.”

  “Yep,” said Blaine. “Flat roof. Could be a good spot.”

  The crew went outside and watched Fletch climb up the maintenance ladder. He disappeared from sight for a minute and then came back and handed down a long roll of plastic secured with duct tape.

  Blaine grinned. “Take a peek in one end.”

  Farrell pulled out his boot knife and cut the end of the plastic. “Looks like a rifle barrel to me.”

  “The DA will be excited we brought him a present,” said Fletcher.”

  “Wonder who’s prints are on the gun?”

  “Nobody, if I had to guess,” said Blaine. “Let’s go book all of our guests.”

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  JESSE sat down in room three with Norman Emmery and his attorney, Mr. Arthur Pitts. The interview had been set up and they were ready to start.

  “Has my client been read his rights?” asked Pitts. Arthur Pitts was an older criminal attorney, tall with thinning gray hair and thick dark-rimmed glasses

  “Mr. Emmery hasn’t been formally charged, as yet. I’m merely asking questions about his son.”

  “Go ahead, Ranger Quantrall, I’ll advise Norm the questions he should or should not answer.”

  “During the past few weeks when all the reports of the sniper killings were on the TV and in the newspaper were you aware that your son, Collin, was the sniper?”

  Pitts held up a hand but Emmery answered anyway. “No, I had no idea it was Collin.”

  “Did Collin live with you in the half-way house?”

  “No, he didn’t. He lived with his mother in Windsor Park until he ran away.”

  “When did he run away?” asked Jesse. “Was it recently?”

  “A couple of weeks ago.”

  “Around the time the sniper attacks started?” asked Jesse.

  “I never connected the two, but I guess so. Around the same time.”

  “Did you talk to his mother since he ran away?”

  “A couple of times. She wanted me to look for Collin because… well because, as you know, he has problems and he shouldn’t be on his own.”

  “And did you look for your son?”

  “I did look, but I didn’t find him. I don’t think he wanted to be found.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because before he ran away, he’d take the bus over to see me and sit on the porch almost every day.”

  “Then he stopped doing that?”

  “He suddenly stopped.”

  “We have reason to believe that during the period of time when he was killing the bikers he was hiding under the back porch of the half-way house.”

  Emmery frowned. “No, that’s not possible. I would have seen him.”

  “We have witnesses who saw him hide the rifle under that porch.”

  “No, please don’t tell me that.” Emmery took a tissue from the box and wiped his eyes. “I didn’t know what he was doing. You have to believe that had I known, I would have had him committed. Josie and I argued about it all through the last year of our marriage.”

  “Where did Collin learn to shoot?” asked Jesse. “He’s a crack shot.”

  “I always sent him to cadet camp every summer when he was growing up. He seemed to enjoy it.”

  “And how would he obtain a rifle and ammunition?”

  “That I don’t know,” said Emmery.

  “Did you own a rifle?” asked Jesse.

  “I used to go hunting years ago. My deer rifle hung over the fireplace.”

  “That would be at your wife’s residence?”

  Emmery nodded.

  “Do you know if the gun is still there?”

&nbs
p; “No, I don’t, but Josie never mentioned it being gone.”

  “Has Collin been treated in the past?” asked Jesse.

  “Josie kept him at home with her and taught him to function. No, he’s never been formally treated at a facility.”

  “This morning he was sent to the State Hospital for an evaluation,” said Jesse. “It might take a couple of weeks.”

  “I understand,” said Emmery. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Do you think your ex-wife knew about the shootings?”

  “If she did, she’d never tell anyone or do anything about it for fear they’d take Collin from her. She doted on him.”

  “Would you mind giving me her address,” said Jesse. “We’ll have to talk to her.”

  Emmery wrote down the address.

  “Will I be able to see Collin?”

  “Not during the evaluation, but when something has been decided, I can give you a call.”

  “Would you, please? He must be terrified.”

  BLAINE was downstairs in booking when Jesse finished Norman Emmery’s interview. “How did that go? Did he know about the killings?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Jesse. “The boy lived with his mother and ran away from home about the same time the shooting started.”

  “Have we got an address for the mother?”

  “Josie Emmery.” Jesse handed Blaine the note.

  “Travis, take one of the boys and go get the sniper’s mother. Here’s her address.”

  “Yep, doing it now. Come on Luke.”

  Windsor Park. Austin.

  TRAVIS parked in the driveway of a white bungalow no bigger than a doll’s house.

  “Tiny house,” said Luke. “Big enough for two people, I guess.”

  “Let’s go get the mom. Hope she’s hitting on all fours.”

  Luke rang the bell and there was no answer. He tried again and got the same result.

  Travis stood in the flower bed under the window, cupped his hand against the glass and peered in. “Call 911. I can see her feet. She’s lying on the floor in there.”

  Luke called it in while Travis picked the lock and opened the front door. Travis ran into the tiny sitting room that faced the street and felt for a pulse. Mrs. Emmery was dead.